


Blink Of Another Life

by van_daalen



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dissociation, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Moderately Slow Burn, Multiple Timelines, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-26 04:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7560985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/van_daalen/pseuds/van_daalen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a stray shot breaks Tracer's lifeline, her chronal accelerator, the Brit panics and tries to turn back the clock. But instead of rewinding to before the shot, she is transported to another timeline... a timeline far different from her own. She finds herself in a world where Lena Oxton never reappeared, Talon never kidnapped Amélie, and Widowmaker was never created. As she gets her chance to 'make things right', she is forced to learn that sometimes 'what ifs' aren't as pretty as they seem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Audi Alteram Partem

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been running through my mind ever since I started shipping these two, so I decided to try and write about it. I'm hoping to write 8-10 chapters in total, with at least one a week, but I can't guarantee how long it'll actually end up being. Oh, and as a warning, I should mention that I know almost no French at all, so everything in this fic I got from Google Translate. Please feel free to correct my usage of any (and all) words/phrases.

“Oi! Ya gotta play fair, luv!”

 

A bullet flew dangerously close to her head in response, reminding the girl that her ‘playmate’ wasn’t terribly fond of, well, _playing_ . And though Tracer was loathe to admit it, she _was_ starting to get a bit tired. The two of them- Talon sniper and Overwatch Agent- had been chasing each other across the city’s rooftops for what felt like hours. Even someone as energetic as herself started to slow down after that much exertion. Still, Lena kept moving, knowing that staying still around Widowmaker was a pretty shit idea. As much as she could go for a cup of sleepy time tea and a good nap right then, all she could do was try to catch her target. Otherwise… well, otherwise the only kind of nap she’d be taking would be the permanent kind.

 

With that in mind she did a tuck-&-roll over a vent, propelling herself over to the next building. Another shot came close to its mark, the sound of the round hitting metal being accompanied by a rough swear, and Lena ducked behind an industrial fan. She had never understood why so many structures had fans and vents on the top, but now _really_ wasn’t the time to question it. The seemingly oddly-placed machine was providing important cover and that was all that mattered. With the hulk of metal in the way of a clear shot, Amélie, or whatever she had become, would have to change positions, hopefully getting closer. _If ya just move a bit, luv,_ Tracer thought, _I could do a few blinks ‘n finish this._

 

As if responding to the Brit’s silent plea, a certain spider dropped onto a nearby roof, the sound of her footsteps seeming to echo in the empty night air. Spotting her chance, Tracer lept up from her hiding spot. But before she could blink away (as she had intended to do) a gun went off. The bullet lodged itself firmly in her thigh, knocking her movements off course, causing her to crash into the concrete instead of landing sweetly. _Shit, shit, shit,_ she thought, wincing as the air was knocked out of her. Without pausing she tried to get back up, half-crawling forward as she did. Another string of curses left her lips in the following moments, her injured leg refusing to hold her weight, forcing her to manage with just one.

 

“Now now, _chérie, ne courrez pas_ ,” a familiar voice cooed, tone full of an eerie mischief. If Lena had still held any hope of leaving the fight, it vanished in that moment. She tried to prop herself up nonetheless, turning to what had once been her friend, a sort of fear finally showing up in her light brown eyes. The sight was enough to make Widowmaker use one of her signature smirks. What might have been cute- or _bloody fucking hot_ \- in any other situation was absolutely _terrifying_ in this one; perhaps even more so than the sight of a rifle raising that followed. “ _Fermez vos yeux, chérie_ , this is the end.”

 

Lena pulled back, raising a hand in a feeble attempt at blocking a potential shot to the face, and waited for the inevitable _click_ of Widowmaker’s gun. Another few seconds and she would be able to blink away again, to escape. But since when did the ghost of Amélie ever give her that chance?... She had only a moment to brace herself for oblivion, and brace for oblivion she did.

 

“ _Arrêtez! Don’t shoot-”_

 

The voice came out of nowhere. It was loud, far louder than that of the Talon agent’s, and lined with a different accent. One with a… _familiar_ twinge to it. But neither Amélie nor Lena had a moment to decipher its origins, for the former woman shifted in shock, pulling the trigger on her gun as she did, whirling to face whoever had interrupted her fun. The moment that followed happened so quickly, so rapidly, that even _Lucio_ would have been left in the dust. A bullet had left a barrel, just a few hairs’ width to the side of where it had been meant to go, and slammed right into Tracer’s chest. Panic had overtaken the Brit in an instant. Her instincts had taken over, her mind clogging, stopping her from realizing that her chronal accelerator had been hit. Blue light filled the area with a sudden intensity as she attempted a recall…

\---------

_Dark dark dark dark,_ **_cold._ ** _It was so bloody cold, so empty, a jarring contrast to what she had felt a mere moment before. Panic shot through her, any sort of calmness fleeing instantly._ **_No, no, no,_ ** _she thought, maybe even said, as a hundred distant memories tried to reach her at once. The last time this had happened-_ **_No, that isn’t happening again, that can’t be happening again-_ ** _had been when she had taken Slipstream for its maiden voyage, all those years ago. Realizing that chilled her more than the lack of air ever could. Part of her wanted to cry, wanted to let out her emotions, to say what she felt (_ **_I’m gonna be stuck again, I’m never going to see my friends again, I’m going to die_ ** _), but there was nothing she could do. In the absence of time, all she had was her lonesome mind. All she could do was wait- wait for the clock to start again._

\----------

“Hello?...” The voice caught Tracer by surprise. What had happened? Was she back in London, in the right year, on the right day?... Or had months and months passed, just like the last time? Worries filled her, pushing her to action. With a whimper she tried to force herself to her feet. As she did she heard the same voice as before, a soft, sweet sort of drawl that felt familiar somehow, even if the words were coming out in a language she didn’t know. “ _Chérie? Vous allez bien?_ ” Whoever was speaking moved closer, footsteps seeming to be clicking against some kind of tile. There was an urgency in the movements, like they were panicked or scared, probably from seeing a strange woman appear in a flash of blue light. Lena paid them little attention until they repeated their words in English, the reason for her sense of deja vu becoming clear.

 

“Are you okay?” _No, no, no,_ **_no_ ** , she thought, _I haven’t heard_ **_that_ ** _voice in years._ Two arms moved to her sides, trying to help her up. The weariness in her body, a side effect of her temporary _lack of existence_ , weighed her down, however, and she went crashing back to the ground. “ _Merde, merde, merde,_ ” the voice cursed, followed by more rapid French. A few moments passed before the ‘stranger’ leaned back down, gently trying to roll Tracer onto her back. “Please, _chérie_ , I’m trying to help,” the woman said, her accent making the words seem sweeter, somehow. It was enough to make the Brit relax, despite her apprehension. Her almond eyes glanced up into hazel ones, dreading the change she knew she’d see, the shift from _concern_ to _recognition_ . Even though she’d wanted something like this for years, Lena hadn’t been prepared for it. Hadn’t been prepared for a _fuckup_ by the universe’s _goddamn bloody clock_ to bring her to the feet of someone she loved. And yet here she was, staring up at someone who looked like they had seen a ghost. “ _Mon Dieu…_ Lena?”

 

With a gulp and a forced grin, Tracer pushed a reply past shaking lips.

“Nice ta’ see ya, Amélie. Nice weather we’re having, eh?”


	2. Ex Oblivione

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It only takes Tracer a few moments to realize that something is wrong- but it will take far longer for her to find out just how wrong, and even longer to understand why.

There were so many things for her to look at, so many little details for the Brit to take in, that she had absolutely  _ no _ clue where to start- and so she tried to look nowhere at all. In the end it did little to ease the overwhelming amount of information she was trying to process. Even without trying to ask questions about  _ how _ or  _ why _ things were happening, the woman was struggling to understand  _ what _ was happening. Her chronal accelerator malfunctioning was one thing, one easily explained by the bullet that had hit it, but the arrival of a long ‘gone’ friend was another. Especially considering her physical appearance... Despite the blue light coming from Lena’s chest, Amélie hadn’t looked very blue. Like her heart was beating at a normal tempo, like it had never slowed down in the first place, just like it was all those years ago.

 

_ Did I go too far back in time?...  _ It wasn’t a possibility Lena had considered until that moment, but once she did it became a terrible fear. The idea curled up in the pit of her stomach, teasing her, making her think about having to relive all of the Overwatch tragedies again, desperately trying to prevent things that likely couldn’t be changed.  _ Shit, shit, shit, _ she thought, tensing her whole body up without realizing it. When a hand touched her shoulder in an attempt to calm her, the Brit’s stiffness merely exploded into shaking. Once again her ‘gift’- her ability to manipulate time- threatened to send her into a full-blown panic attack. But this time she didn’t have Angela or her meds to help her get through it. All she had was her own heart, someone who seemed too wonderful to be real, and physical pain to ground her in the moment.

 

In her mind, all three of those things seemed more likely to hurt her than help her.

 

“Lena, can you hear me?” Amélie asked, voice half filled with concern and half filled with confusion. Evidently she was just as mystified by the situation as Tracer was. That fact drew the time traveler back in, pulling her thoughts away from her fears for a moment, making her wonder if she had judged the situation too quickly. If the French woman was as worried as she seemed…  _ This has to be after Slipstream, _ Lena decided, knowing that her friendship with Gérard’s wife hadn’t kicked off until after her own reappearance. They had met a few times before that, but a bond hadn’t even come close to forming until after the incident.  _ So maybe I went back far enough to save Amélie! Maybe I can stop Talon from- _ the Brit’s thinking cut off short, the subject of her thoughts starting to speak once more. “ _ Merde, _ Lena, are you hurt?”

 

For the first time in a few minutes their gazes met again, both searching for something in the other’s eyes; Amélie for a sign of life, Lena for a sign of reality. Only a split second passed before they looked away. The French woman shifted her focus to her friend, trying to scan her for any obvious injuries. To her- and the Brit’s- surprise, none were to be found, not even the tinsiest scratch.  _ Didn’t I get shot? _ Tracer wondered, having difficulty remembering her latest battle with Widowmaker.  _ God, what the hell happened with that recall? _ She groaned softly in frustration, something her companion quickly mistook for pain. Once more hands moved to her body, this time feeling around a bit slower, eventually moving towards her harness. As much as she wanted to lie still, the sensation scared her enough to make her jolt upright.

 

“Shit, don’t touch that!” Both women flinched at the volume of the words. Lena cringed, mentally cursing at herself for being so loud. “Ya gotta trust me, luv, just don’t mess with the harness.  _ Please, _ ” she added, trying to force her lips into a nervous smile.  _ Play it off, Lena, just act like you’re not about to explode into a billion tiny pieces. _ Of course, confidence was far easier to think of than to portray. Instead of finding some sort of reassurance, or even just some slight comfort, in the Brit’s words, Amélie only seemed to panic more. The fear in her eyes was something that Tracer had hoped never to see again. “Please, luv. Just…  _ Fuck, _ can ya call up Winston? Or Angela? They’d know what to do.”  _ Hopefully. _

 

“Lena, I-... I do not understand, where-” The French woman started to say, practically tripping over her own tongue. But before she could finish her question a new noise caught her attention. It was quickly paired with the feeling of something vibrating against her, an unwelcome distraction from the current moment. She cursed, reaching a hand into her pocket, and quickly yanked her phone out. What had started out as irritation shifted to worry once she checked the caller ID. “It seems the good Doctor really does always know when she’s needed,” Amélie murmured, glancing at Lena with a frown and furrowed brows. Seemingly deciding that she didn’t know enough to fix the problem by herself, the French woman slid her finger across the touch screen, accepting the call with a weak  _ “bonjour”. _

 

One of her hands subconsciously moved to grasp her companion’s, both in a show of comfort and in an attempt to find some. It made Lena blush like mad, but she made no effort to pull away, instead simply struggling to figure out what was being said on the other side of the phone. When she started to have trouble hearing  _ anything _ , however, her grip doubled in strength. She hadn’t even realized how much her exhaustion was weighing on her until that moment. Panic tried to take control, but found the Brit’s mind already too tired. Amélie noticed almost immediately, pausing mid-sentence, and reached out to gently shake her. Lena could only half mumble something incoherent in response, trying to say she just needed a quick nap. Before she knew it she was tumbling back into the realms of unconsciousness, drifting asleep, with the last thing she could hear being Amélie’s voice.

  
“ _ Reste avec moi, chérie, _ help is on the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French Translations:  
> Merde=Shit  
> Bonjour=Hello  
> Reste avec moi=Stay with me  
> Chérie=Dear/sweetheart
> 
> The next chapter will hopefully explain the differences between this timeline and the 'main' one, along with having enough cute moments to make up for most of the angst in this one.


	3. Ad Sumus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Angela Ziegler has dealt with dozens of bizarre medical cases, but none involving time travel, dimension hopping, or long-gone-friends come back. At least not until now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So so so very sorry about the long wait between chapters! I got hit with some health issues again, and then had to start preparing to go back to school. But the third chapter is finally done! It's a bit longer than the other two were, at around 1800 words, and I expect the next chapters to be even longer than it. As a last note, I feel the need to mention that this chapter includes a bit more angst than I had originally planned. I swear I'll add a chapter of solid fluff at some point to make up for it.

“I’m worried about her, Fareeha. She’s been at the memorial all day. Did she not tell us she would be back before sundown?”

Worrying extensively about her patients was just one of Dr. Angela Ziegler’s many, many specialties. Said worries tended to be a broad mix- some rational, some not, and others a strange concoction of both. In this case, it was the latter-most option. Amélie had indeed been out far later than she had said she would be. But it was _that_ time of year again, and she was already rather prone to losing track of the hour. If you asked the doctor's companion, Fareeha, this was entirely expected. Personally, she would have been more surprised if the French woman had returned already. However, now that she thought about it, it was getting pretty late. Too much longer and she’d want to check on her coworker. Even with ‘Reaper' out of the picture (and likely in 76’s bed), Talon was a threat. Not just that, but they likely still had a grudge against Amélie, considering the fact that she managed to thwart their plans with Gérard all those years ago.

“Another minute and I'm calling her,” Angela said, twiddling her thumbs nervously. “She should have told us she'd be late, she **knows** how dangerous that part of town can be… Oh, darling, why did they have to put Lena’s statue there? They could have put it next to the RAF’s one, or even better, next to the Overwatch facility,” she continued, a deep frown set on her features. With a sigh her girlfriend put down the book she was reading, glancing up with a dubious look.

“They wanted to put the memorial by where Lena grew up. Putting it by the base would only be a convenience to us, not to those who raised her,” Fareeha replied, despite the fact that she also wished the statue of her friend was closer. She might have even complained about it, or at least quietly agreed with Angela, if not for what her mother had told her. _I know it’s a rough neighborhood, but it was her home, Fareeha. We have to respect that. Those who carried memories of her from birth to early grave still live there, and they still recall their time with her, their experiences with her. The consequences of her actions, the ripples, are still present there. Having the memorial there ensures that they do not forget- that her soul can rest in her own home. And when her brothers, her sisters, her makeshift kin, when they have children of their own, they can point to her with no trouble, and tell the tales of the woman born in a gutter who rose up and conquered the skies. It was there her story started, my dear, and it is there that we should admire it._ “The people there respect the statue, _Ya Amar_. They would not cause any of its visitors any trouble unless they felt Lena’s memory was not being honored.”

“I know, I know, _Härzli_ , but I cannot help but worry. Grief can make people do silly things- no matter how strong they are,” Angela said, finally giving into her worries and reaching for her phone. Although Fareeha sighed in response, disapproving to some minor degree, she made no move to intervene. There was little anyone could to do to stop the doctor once she had her mind set on something. If she wished to check in on Amélie, then check in on Amélie she would. The action would give her some peace, a rare commodity those days, and no harm could likely come from it. “C’mon, pick up,” she muttered, counting every second that passed. By the time an ever-so-slightly irritated voiced graced her with a _bonjour_ she had reached twenty two. Relief filled her instantly, coming in a rush. “Amélie, I’m so glad you-” She didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence. Instead she was assaulted by a verbal barrage, rapid English mashing incoherently with French, strung together wildly, held together by what she could only assume were swear words. Shocked, Angela went stiff. In all the years she had known Amélie, the French woman had _never_ , not even once, gone off in such a way. The panic must have shown on the doc’s face, as Fareeha almost immediately set her book back down, standing up at the same time. “Slow down, Amélie, _bitte!_ Whatever is the matter?”

The voice on the other end went silent, replaced by the sound of nervous breathing. Unsure of how long the break would last, Angela switched her phone’s speakers on, gesturing for Fareeha to come closer as she did. Chances were that the Egyptian was going to have to play the role of a rock- something hard to lean on, rely on. Anything that stirred up Amélie so much was nearly guaranteed to cause serious, potentially catastrophic, ripples in the flow of things. And if the couple were the two to first assist with the issue, then they would have to be the ones to create a temporary calm, one strong enough to bring clarity to the situation.

“There… there are no words, Dr. Ziegler, that could explain this… this _matter_ .” There was no venom in Amélie’s voice, no, not really. But if the two she spoke to had not known her as well as they did… they could have easily mistaken her fear for anger. Her voice had a low tremble to it, every other syllable rocked by a tremor. With every word that the French woman said, her friends wished more and more that they had called earlier. Or, better yet, stayed with her at the memorial. “She’s back, Angela, she’s _back_. Came in a flash of blue light, every bit the same as the one she vanished in, just like Slipstream,” Amélie continued, a stiffness akin to a false calm taking over her voice. It felt blatantly abnormal. Paired with what she was saying… it was a terrifying moment for the doctor. Hundreds of possibilities started to run through her head, most of which involving her friend getting some sort of concussion. After all, how could Lena be back? She had been gone for more than a decade. No one, not even the ever-hopeful, ever-persistent Winston, still held any hope of seeing the Brit again. “I believe she is injured, although I could not find any visible wounds on her. Perhaps something internal? _S’il te plait,_ Ange, I need you to- _attendez,_ something is wrong.”

Muffled sounds of speaking could be heard through the phone, and for a moment the Swiss doctor could have sworn she caught ear of a familiar cockney accent. _That can’t be right,_ Angela thought, _I’m just getting my hopes up._ But even if she denied the supposed presence of a long departed friend, she could not ignore the presence of a second person. _Someone_ was with Amélie, though she did not know who, and that someone was clearly causing quite a stir. Unable to resist her ‘doctoral’ instincts, she quickly started searching her pockets for her keys. They were going to have to visit the memorial. With one hand clutched around metal, the other around her phone, she rose up, knowing full well that Fareeha would follow.

“ _Merde, merde, merde,_ she is falling unconscious, Dr. Ziegler. I am afraid I cannot keep her awake for much longer. _Dépêche-toi, s’il vous plait_ ,” the French woman said, voice once more dotted with terror. Angela was practically sprinting now, desperate to get to the car as soon as possible. The longer she took, the later she’d arrive at the memorial, and the more that could potentially go wrong in her absence. Both her and Fareeha’s footsteps fell heavy on the tile floor, nearly drowning out the sound of Amélie saying something else to her unseen companion. “ _Reste avec moi, chérie,_ help is on the way.”

“Don’t worry, Amélie, we’ll be there as soon as we can,” Angela started, quickly slipping into her medical persona. “Monitor the patient as well as you can. If anything changes drastically, or rapidly, let me know as soon as you can. I won’t be able to assist directly, but I can guide you through something if necessary. Understood?”

“ _Oui._ ”

With that said the silence returned, accompanied by its longtime friend: anxiety. A thick air hung over the vehicle, weighing the couple down, making it harder to breathe. They occasionally exchanged glances, trying to give each other small comforts when they could. Angela got more antsy with every block they passed, feeling quite impatient, and silently felt glad that her girlfriend was the one driving. _She’s always so calm in these situations,_ the doctor thought. It was a trait she had admired for as long as she could remember. In that moment she couldn’t help but wonder if Fareeha really was calm- or if the Egyptian, like Angela, was simply hiding her concern. Before she could fully follow the thought a voice called to her, drawing her back into the situation at hand.

“I… I forgot to make note of it until now, Doctor, but Lena is wearing a... device of sorts on her chest. When I tried to touch it earlier she panicked, asked me to refrain from doing so again, and told me that she believed you or _Monsieur_ Winston would know what to do with it,” Amélie said, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of herself. “I can not dare pretend to know what the… the _thing_ is, but I am sure that it is important in some manner.” There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Angela took the opportunity to try and collect her thoughts. With every new detail she heard, each perhaps stranger than the last, the puzzle only grew more complicated. She knew for a fact that Amélie was not one to jest often; nor was she one to go so far with a joke. But Lena couldn’t _really_ be back, could she? “ _Une seconde,_ ” the French woman started, “I am going to take a picture.”

  
“Alright,” Angela acknowledged, trying to slow down the racing of her heart. _What am I going to see?_ She wondered, a lump starting to form in her throat. There was a definite part of her that did not, at all, want to see the photo, for fear of what would be in it. But if there was a chance that the image could help her understand the issue at hand, well… With a gulp she steeled herself for what was to come, eyes locked on her phone screen, waiting for the _ding_ that marked a new message. And yet, even with her preparation, she was not able to hold in her gasp when it finally appeared. _Nothing_ could have readied her. “ _Mein Gott,_ can it be?...” She murmured, eyes locked on a picture of a dead-not-dead woman. _A picture of dead-not-dead_ **_friend_ ** . There Lena was, lying on the concrete. Her eyes were closed, but not clenched, and she looked peaceful, somehow. The sight of her was so shocking that the doctor didn’t even notice the harness upon the Brit’s chest for a full minute. When she did a swarm of emotions rose up, followed by a stream of questions. At the forefront of her mind, however, was a single, shining thought: _Lena wasn’t wearing that when she vanished._ What did that mean? Had she been yanked off somewhere, and was only now able to return? Despite the knot in her stomach and the breath caught in her throat, Angela managed one more coherent sentence, somehow barely tripping over the words. “Step on it, _Härzli_ , it is time to see an old pal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French Translations:  
> S’il te plait: Please (informal)  
> S’il vous plait: Please (formal)  
> Attendez: Wait  
> Dépêche-toi: Hurry up  
> Monsieur: Mister/Master/Gentleman  
> Une seconde: One second


	4. Graviora Manent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every change has ripples- that much is easy to understand. But knowing what shifts, and what remains the same, is a task nearly impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even have an excuse for why this took as long to update as it did. Oops.

They hadn’t believed her at first. Of course they hadn’t- she was the grieving woman, facing two grim anniversaries in one week, likely desperate for the return of her loved ones. What did she know but grief? And oh, _of course_ , grief makes people do such _silly_ things. _Merde,_ the French woman thought, scolding herself for thinking the way she was. She knew that she wouldn’t have believed them if the roles were reversed, no matter how much she’d want Lena back. But she had been mourning before the Brit’s arrival, and her sadness had suddenly been replaced by shock. It was a terrible amount to try to process at such a late hour. Even if her emotions hadn’t conjured up a false image of a dead friend, they were certainly twisting themselves up, making her think things she wouldn’t normally think.

Aware of that, and trying hard to calm herself to some degree, Amélie closed her eyes before taking a few deep breaths. After the original Slipstream ‘incident’ (as it was dubbed), those who had known the ship’s pilot were required to attend at least one therapy sessions. Most never bothered to go for a second, either not feeling like they needed it or already having someone to talk to, but the French woman ended up seeing a specialist regularly. Breathing exercises were one of the more helpful things she learned during her visits. It almost seemed ironic, really, when one considered how often Lena had ‘taken her breath away’. Regardless, it was a tactic that she found reliable enough to use in such a stressful situation. _In, one, two, three, four… Hold to seven… Out, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight… Repeat…_

She found her heart rate slowing down, the pacing of her thoughts waning, and the intensity of her feelings subsiding. It still wasn’t perfect, and a single glance at her companion quickly undid some of the work. With a frown she tried the exercise again, making sure to still pay some attention to the noise around her, just in case Angela had anymore questions… or in case Lena managed to wake back up on her own. _Mon Dieu, she will wake up, right?_ Another wave of anxiety crashed over her, halting her coping methods in their tracks. For a moment she wasn’t sure she’d be able to hold in her tears. _To lose her so soon after getting her back,_ Amélie thought, right hand clenching tight around her cell phone, nearly breaking it. _Non, I can not allow myself to think of such things._ Taking a deep breath, she willed herself to hold on for a few more minutes, allowing her left hand to quietly run through her hair, toying with the dark locks.

“Hold on, Amélie. We’re only a couple blocks away now. Just hold in there,” Angela reassured, her voice the only steady thing about the moment. For the French woman, it was something to latch onto, a pillar to lean against. _The good doctor always did have good bedside manner,_ Amélie thought, a soft smile crossing her lips. Having friends with her would make the how ordeal so much easier. It almost made her laugh, actually, in the way that nerves or sudden relief often did. Instead she just sighed and shook her head slowly, letting the feeling of joy last as long as it could. Considering the fact that she had no idea what was to come, what with Lena’s sudden reappearance and the mystery of her health, it was the least she could give to herself.

“We’re gonna be okay, Lena,” she murmured, quiet enough that her phone wouldn’t be able to pick the sound up, “I promise.” Though it was likely just her imagination, she could have sworn that the woman smiled in response. There was a glorious moment of peace.

When it broke, it was not for a bad reason, but simply because the sound of footsteps pulled Amélie out of her daze. Out of the darkness of the night appeared two angels, each carrying some sort of salvation within their arms. The taller of the two held what looked like a few blankets, while the shorter, who rushed ahead, had a first aid kit in her hands. Together they swooped in upon her, moving rapidly. One of tried to speak to her with little success. Things were going too fast for her to keep track of, the length of the day starting to catch up to her, as it had earlier with Lena. This prompted some concern from the newly arrived duo. After conversing for a few seconds they moved closer to her, trying to get her attention without scaring her. In the low light from the Brit’s harness, the doctor appeared more angelic than ever, practically forcing Amélie to focus on her. A few moments passed before she was able to start understanding what was being said.

“-going to carry you to the car. Do you understand me?” Angela asked, brow slightly furrowed, eyes filled to the brim with concern. When no response came immediately she tilted her head to the side, gently biting her lower lip as she did. It was something she often did when nervous or unsure of how to proceed. “Amélie? Please, can you hear me?” This time the French woman nodded, barely able to stay concentrated long enough to do so, despite the simple nature of the task. A split second later the doctor spoke again, perhaps trying to get all her words out before the focus was lost. “Fareeha is going to carry you to the car, alright? You’re exhausted, Amélie, and you need to get some sleep. We’re going to take Lena to the base, make sure she’s stable, then call Winston in the morning. Understood?” The Swiss woman spoke clearly, carefully articulating each word, somehow still managing to convey her usual kindness as she did. That sweetness was what prevented Amélie from protesting. As much as she wanted to fight her fatigue in order to keep watch over her friend, there was no going against the good doctor’s orders. So she simply nodded, let herself be picked up, and closed her eyes.

Sleep came far easier than she would have imagined.

* * *

 

When her eyes first reopened, she saw nothing. The room was shrouded in darkness, without a single light on, and no windows were initially visible. Panic overtook her for a moment, as her mind was sent racing back to another time. Memories hounded her, trying to drag her down, crawling along her scalp like a dozen angry spiders. But she pulled herself back to reality, reminding herself again and again that she survived the fight against Talon. _Thanks to Lena,_ she thought suddenly, then her mind went flying to the previous night’s events. It took a surprising amount of willpower for her to stop herself from rocketing out of bed. Part of her was still trying to determine whether or not she had dreamt the whole thing up, while most of her just needed to finish waking up. _What time is it?_ Amélie wondered, noting the faint tiredness still remaining in her limbs. Quietly she sat up, glancing around the room, and managed to find the faint glow of an old alarm clock. Half of the screen seemed to be glitching, the other half letting her know it was sometime past seven in the morning.

Even though she knew that Angela would want her to go back to sleep, the French woman slipped out of bed, feeling along the wall for a light switch. She almost tripped twice before finding it and giving it a good flick. The sudden brightness blinded her for a moment, making her quickly shield her eyes. Once she felt confident enough to lower her hand she looked around again. What she saw almost made her want to turn the lights back off. _Mon Dieu,_ she thought, trying to swallow the lump that formed in her throat. There was no reason for her to be surprised by what room they had put her in- but she hadn’t given it any thought in the first place. _Of course_ they would put her in her old room. And _of course_ some of her old stuff would still be there, left behind years ago, just another piece of rubble in the ruins of Overwatch. Though they weren’t really ruins anymore. _Especially not with Lena back,_ she thought, silently walking over to the dresser. It was made of a nice cherry wood, the finish on it somehow having survived decades of use and abuse.

“I wonder if anything’s still in there,” Amélie mumbled, opening the container slowly. Even with her caution she was unable to avoid the flood of dust that was kicked into the air. A few seconds of coughing later and she could see past the grey cloud, now able to peer into the dresser. Another wave of nostalgia hit her as she browsed the contents. Some of her old sweaters were hung up on the right side, while some jeans and leggings were folded up on the left, and a couple drawers housed old undergarments. She bit her tongue gently, trying to push past the memories for just a few more moments. Just long enough to see if there was anything in good enough condition to change into. Wordlessly she reached a hand out, brushing it across different fabrics, feeling like they could pull her in at any second. Some of the clothes seemed unfamiliar to her. They felt foreign, like they belonged to someone besides herself. But she knew that no one else had occupied the room since she left it. There was a bitterness, of a sorts, in the quiet realization that reached her. The person she had been all those years ago was gone, now a ghost near unrecognizable to herself.

Forgoing a change of clothes, Amélie closed the dresser quickly, ignoring the resulting thud, and moved to leave the room. The chances of her friends being awake were moderate, making it a more appealing choice than staring at her old belongings for an hour or two. If she was lucky she’d be able to speak to Lena before the Brit was ‘interrogated’ by Winston. There were certainly plenty of questions to be asked about the nature of her reappearance, along with ones about the device strapped to her chest. Though, of course, those two things seemed related. If Amélie had been a little more knowledgeable in any of several different scientific fields, she would be going over countless different theories in her head, trying to figure out the reasoning behind what seemed to be breaking every known law of the universe. But science was not her forte, and so she found herself unable to come up with too many hypotheses. Instead she was able to feel a raging whirlwind of emotions… and still stand tall.

Though the previous night’s events had shaken her, they weren’t enough to fully knock her down. She’d always been a strong-willed woman. It wasn’t her only strength, of course, but even when her soul was trembling, her knees rarely were. _Cool, calm, collected, as always,_ she thought, taking a moment to center herself before opening the door. Walking the haunted halls of her past wasn’t something she was necessarily looking forward to. There was no alternative, however, if she wanted to unravel the mystery in front of her. With a quiet kind of caution she moved through the doorway, glancing around the hallway before continuing along, trusting her memories to guide her to the med bay. Even though she hadn’t visited the London base as much as some of the others, Amélie had spent the hardest month of her life within its confines. Some things, such as flashing lights that followed blood trails, could not be easily forgotten.

Finding the room was as easy as she had expected. She went through three empty hallways, past a deserted lobby, and through the ruins of training center. All along the path were signs that years had passed since the facility was shut down. A dozen windows were broken, less than half of them even having any sort of temporary cover or fix on them. Plants sprouted from cracks in the concrete, vines crawled up a few walls, and spider webs hung in various corners. Once upon a time they would have unnerved her- but she had learned valuable lessons from Lena, all those years ago, about the nature of fear. The ant feared the giant more than the giant could ever fear the ant. And so Amélie passed by the arachnids without much thought, not fazed in the slightest by their presence. Perhaps she would have done so regardless of the past- there were some things far more important than fear; things such as love, friendship, and the bonds they formed. As tacky as it seemed, it was true. And any reason to keep going, despite a long list of hardships, was a good one.

Lena had given her dozens of reasons to keep going over the years. Now, if the Brit needed it, she was ready to return the favor. Amélie pushed gently on the med bay’s door, trying to keep her spine straight, trying to ignore the shake in her heart. A quick glance around the room let her know that it had been at least partially maintained over the years. Unlike the rest of the complex, there weren’t any cracks in the windows or walls, and only half of space boasted an impressive layer of dust. There were other differences as well, clear markers of _something_ , but Amélie’s gaze found what she sought too quickly for her to take in much else. Lying silently on a corner bed was a young Brit with disheveled brown hair. Light from an adjacent window trickled in, the softest of morning rays, and lit up her thin frame. The sight was awing- it took the breath right out of Amélie, leaving her still as a statuette. If any doubt of her memories had remained, it vanished in that instant, as she took in every detail of her old friend’s face. _It’s real,_ she thought, allowing herself a weak smile, _it’s all real._ Suddenly unsure whether to laugh or cry, the French woman took the only reasonable choice: She did both.


	5. Capax Infiniti

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams, awakenings, broken spells, and reality checks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being a lot shorter than I had originally intended, but I found a good place to leave off and figured that you guys had waited long enough for an update.

When she dreamed, she dreamed of many things. Of crisp autumn air, leaves crunching beneath boots with torn-up soles, first kisses by dying trees. Of blaring alarms, feet pounding against concrete, huddling in dark shelters. Of eyes cast upwards, of skyborn hope, of the rush of air all around her. And, as always, of the crash. The burn.

She remembered it so well that every dream felt like a flashback. Countless nights had been spent reliving it, waking up in a sweat, curling up into herself, and watching the cycle reset. Sometimes it felt like she couldn’t wake up, or that the night would never end. More than a few times she had simply given up, left her room, and resorted to fueling herself with caffeine. In this case, she simply could not seem to escape sleep. Her entire world was a pair of ethereal arms wrapped tight around her. There was, for a time, naught but the dreamscape around her. Slowly the memories formed, swirling up in a cloudy mist, before materializing in meticulous detail. Part of her mind was still awake, just enough so that she could understand the truth of what she found herself in. Not enough, however, that she had any semblance of control over it. So she gave in to the whims of night and let herself slip further into the arms of slumber.

If what she saw had not been so personal, she might have likened it to watching a movie. There was a riveting plot, intricate characters, and a climax worthy of at least one academy award. Some of it felt superbly cinematic- far more so than the actual thing had been. The way the hanger doors slid gracefully open, the way the light caught her brunette locks at just the right angle, the way the ‘camera’ panned over the people watching her, like Morrison, Winston, and Amél-... except that wasn’t right. The realization hit her hard. This wasn’t like her previous dreams, painfully accurate to every last drop, it was  _ off _ . Not in the sort of way one would expect a fabrication of the mind to be, with just little pieces being different or out of place. Somehow the changes felt more deliberate. It was downright  _ unnerving, _ the way that things were twisted up. Over all her years of living, Lena had prided herself on a keen memory, even when it meant harsh dreams being harsher. Of all the nights she could remember, none of them had involved the crash being portrayed any different from usual.

And yet there she was, smiling up at a quiet Amélie, accepting a single white rose from her, waving off apologies about it being ‘the only one they could sell last minute’, and shaking hands with a still-wounded Gérard.

Had she been able to control her dream self, she might have been panicking. Instead she simply tried to watch closer, to take in every last change, to store every bit in her memory. Once one difference was spotted, a dozen more became clear as day. She knew for a fact that neither Amélie nor Gérard had shown up the day of the incident. Being given a flower was less clear, but she was certain she hadn’t tucked anything into her jacket pocket with a grin and a wink. Had Morrison always given her such a stern send-off? Like part of him was dreading the possible outcomes of the experiment?... That wasn’t clear either, and the more Lena thought about it, the more her previous memories got muddled. Things almost seemed to progress too quickly in the dream- like she was on a speeding roller coaster, the edges of her vision going blurry from the movement, her heart rate skyrocketing all the while.  _ If this  _ **_was_ ** _ a movie,  _ she thought, _ this would be the part where the orchestra had a bloody good time with the soundtrack. _ She, however, felt almost as if she was going to hurl from nerves, despite knowing full well that what she was seeing wasn’t actually happening. Perhaps that was just the nature of trauma- fantasy her visions may be, but she couldn’t help but mentally explode when  _ Slipstream _ disappeared, leaving behind only one thing: A single blue rose.

* * *

 

Amélie’s second of strange peace broke with a suddenness that could not be explained. One moment she was pulling up a chair next to Lena’s bedside, the next the Brit was practically throwing the sheets off of herself, yelping all the while. Both of her hands shot up towards her chest, clutching at the device there desperately. Once she seemed assured it was there she let her arms drop. With a hefty sigh she tried to relax, letting her shoulders droop, and took a moment to look over her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was the daylight barely starting to trickle through a nearby window. Next her eyes followed the beams of light on their path, watching them illuminate a clearly concerned figure in front of her.  _ Wh-... what? _ She thought, blinking a dozen or so times, trying to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. A few memories from the previous night resurfaced and granted her a sense of clarity.

“I can’t believe it’s really you, Amélie…” She murmured, thoughts spilling out without intention. It almost felt more like a dream than reality- running parallel to what she had just come out of, flowing, misty, but with a contrasting sense of happiness. What she had dreamed of was chaotic. This… this felt like welcome relief. Wetness started to creep into the corners of her eyes as she felt her lips curl upwards. “I… I didn’t think I’d get to talk to you again- the real you, I mean.” The words left her in a rush, a sort of rumble, and she assumed that was why Amélie’s brow furrowed with confusion in response. Excitement was clouding her thoughts instead of the usual panic. For a moment she practically forgot all about the damaged accelerator, the strange dream, and the possibility of being caught in the past. All her mind could focus on, now that there wasn’t any apparent and immediate danger, was the lovely lass in front of her.

She dared to raise a single hand, to place it on her stunned friend’s cheek. The first of what would be many tears fell from her eyes as she did, and she found herself unable to form any more words, keeping as quiet as her companion. They stayed like that for nearly a minute. Neither felt capable of breaking the silence with anything besides hushed breaths. Everything in the moment felt oddly…  _ fragile _ . Like a single misplaced syllable could render the whole thing moot, or shift it so utterly that recovery would not be possible. After the minute ended, even the quiet felt likely to break the frame of things. One of them had to say something- but what words could mend a decade-old rift?... Although they were unaware of how different their experiences were, both knew that their own was difficult, if not impossible, to properly describe. There was no easy fix, or casual start to a real conversation. Lena might have flailed about mentally if not for the weight of her infatuation pinning her mind down. Her companion, on the other hand, felt more troubled by confusion than anything else.

“Real me?...” Amélie finally whispered, head tilted ever-so-slightly to the side, eyelids fluttering briefly. “What are you talking about, Lena?” With those words the spell broke. It shattered, taking Lena’s daze with it, and was replaced by a shroud of dread. The Brit gulped and dropped her hand back to her side. Once again her thoughts turned rapid, racing between what memories she could reach, searching for a scrap of sense.  _ Shit, shit, shit- how could I fuckin’ forget?  _ She thought, eyes filling with worry, tears falling for new reasons.  _ I don’t even know what goddamn year it is, or where the bloody hell I am, or how much the fight affected my recall… Fuckin’ shit, shit, shit. _ A tremor in her bones threatened to break her, just as the vibrations of vocal chords had broken the peace. “Lena? Please, Lena, speak to me.”

With a shudder the Brit forced herself to look back up, nervous brown eyes meeting soft hazel ones, somehow siphoning away some of the tension.

“What… what year is it?... How long’ve I been gone?” She stuttered quietly. Every part of her held a fear of the answer, a harsh terror fueled by the possibilities. It was enough to make her tremble again. When Amélie hesitated on answering things worsened, Lena looking away again, pulling both hands up to her face and starting to rock herself back and forth. “Fuckin’ fuck, I went back too far, didn’t I? Eh? I’ll have to relive every goddamn disaster again, ‘n no matter what I do, I won’t be able to fix any of it! Bloody friggin shit-fuck…” Her mutterings descended into madness, unintelligible nonsense, and her shaking nearly doubled in intensity… until a hand placed itself firmly on her shoulder.

“ _ Mon dieu, _ Lena, I’m sorry… I do not know how to tell you this… but it has been years since  _ Slipstream _ vanished. You’ve…” Amélie started to say, unable to meet her friend’s gaze. Still, her hand remained steady, acting as an anchor to the present- something Lena needed desperately in that moment. Even if she still shook, she did so with far less vigor than just a few words earlier. Dread still fought against her, slipping a spear of panic between her ribs, making breathing difficult, but she felt stronger than before. When Amélie spoke again, her voice faltered, splitting at the seams, delivering the news with a waver unfitting of herself. “It’s 2081,  _ chérie, _ and we have missed you all this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a heads up, I'll be posting a few standalone fics over the next few days, just some stuff I wrote when I had free time but didn't have access to google docs (where most of my stuff is stored).


	6. De Profundis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are more questions than either of them can ask or answer, and too many to deal with at once. Softly, they find comfort in each other, hoping that whatever comes next won't be so tough.

She had been dreading the moment even more than she had realized. It was an awful thing, what she had to do, but not something so awful that she could avoid it. There were two sides to what she said, of course. Saying that Lena was back was wonderful. A smile should have come with the news, along with a hug- and it would have, if not for the dual-edged speech. Lena was back, yes, but she had been gone for years. Even though she herself had dealt with that fact for a very long time, Lena had yet to, and the unknown of how she might react was a huge cause of concern. When it came time to deliver the news, her heart felt flimsy. But she managed to speak anyway, even if her voice wavered slightly, for she knew a painful answer was better than none.

”It’s 2081,  _ chérie _ , and we have missed you all this time,” Amélie said, giving her friend’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. There was a mountain of worry within her eyes, and it was mirrored within those of her friend. For Amélie, it grew as the silence started to drag on, yet Lena’s anxiety seemed to fade ever-so-slowly.  _ That seems contrary to what I’d expect, _ the French woman thought, tilting her head to the side. “Lena?... I know that this is quite a lot to take in at once, but please, let me know that you understand.” She tried to hold the Brit’s gaze, but found the other woman hesitant to look at her. “ _ Please, _ ” Amélie whispered, voice as soft as could be, eyebrows knitted in worry. It was that concern that seemed to draw Lena out of her stupor. What she said, however, was surprising enough to make Amélie pause.

“2081?... That’s… that’s a relief, luv… Heh, I was worried you were gonna tell me we’re still in the seventies,” she said, leaning her head against the wall and letting out a quiet sigh. “I mean, there’s still some bloody freaky shit goin’ on right now, but at least I don’t have to relive everything,” she added, letting out a low chuckle afterwards. There was an odd sense of calm coming from her, considering the amount of stress she had been displaying just moments earlier. It confused Amélie, though not as much as what the Brit was saying.  _ She’s glad to have appeared years after her accident?...  _ Amélie thought, brow furrowing further.  _ And what’s this about reliving things?... _ Lena seemed to take note of the woman’s puzzled expression, and spoke up again after a moment. “I’m… still processing this, ya know?... But, uh, from where I’m standing, er, sitting, I guess, this is a lot better than at least  _ one _ of the things I thought had happened.”

She bit her lower lip gently, paused, then let her eyelids droop closed.

“To be honest, though… I feel like I’m gonna explode, ya know? There’s just too much to think about, too much to worry about, that I don’t even know where to start…” With that said she shifted, pulling her knees up to her chest, and rested her chin on them. Her eyes were open once more, showing little besides a vague concern.  _ How long did it take her to perfect that look? _ Amélie wondered, _ how long did it take for her to learn to hide so much of herself, like making a mirror reflect only what you want to see? _ Another moment passed, and the French woman tried desperately to decide what to do next. “Part of me feels like I’m still jus’ dreaming, just… floating through the void, latching onto the things I want to be real…”

“Lena… I may not understand what you mean,” Amélie started, a lump forming in her throat, “but I swear to you, if there is something, anything, I can do to help… just let me know. I’ve missed you for far too long a time to let you go now.” Once more she tried to reach out a hand, this time gently cupping Lena’s cheek and using her thumb to wipe away what remained of her tears. It was strange to see the Brit like this- she so often hid her discomfort behind smiles, and yet she was being so open at the moment… so  _ vulnerable _ . To some degree it frightened Amélie, the way that Lena, her hero, was hurting. “Whatever you require,  _ chérie _ , I will try to deliver.” With that said she lowered her hand, only to have Lena reach out for it a second later. Although she hesitated, she let the contact continue, hoping it would give the woman some level of comfort. At that moment, with all the unknowns of the situation, it was the least she could do.

The quiet soon overtook them once more, this time resting over them more like a blanket than a dark shroud. By that point the sun had made considerable progress in its journey, its light coming close to fully illuminating the room, marking the start of both a literal and a figurative new day. Neither of the women were sure what the next few hours had in store for them, nor exactly what the previous night had caused. In that moment, however, that fact seemed to matter little. They had each other for the time being, a small bit of warmth to share between themselves. Although it certainly didn’t fix the problems they were facing, it gave them yet another reminder that they would not face these challenges alone, and let them pull away from life’s conflicts for a little while.

As utterly clueless as the night’s events had left them, they knew well enough that they needed a respite now and then. So they claimed what sense of peace they could. Wordlessly they sat together, Lena perched on the side of the bed, Amélie in a chair pulled against its edge. Traces of the past lingered in the space around them, becoming evident by the way the two intertwined their fingers.  _ It’s been too long, _ Amélie thought,  _ yet it feels almost as if no time has passed.  _ She gently ran her thumb over Lena’s hand, gaze drifting around the room. Everything about her touch was sweet, soft, just as the other woman’s had been years ago, when their positions had been somewhat reversed. The memory was practically etched into Amélie’s mind- but if the same could be said for her British companion, she did well to hide it. There was no particular kind of recognition on her face, or even any soft musings, instead simple notes of comfort, marred by glimpses of a deeper concern.

With the silence, it seemed, came even more questions. Amélie had already been unsure of countless fragments of the situation, and now she found herself questioning things further. A knot formed in her stomach as she pondered things, serenity seeming to abandon her, worry stitching itself into her brow all the while. By the look on Lena’s face, the feeling seemed to be mutual. Yet neither of them spoke again until Amélie paused the movements of her thumb, almost starting to pull her hand away. Without hesitating, Lena quickly tightened her grip on the French woman’s hand, both her eyes lighting up with panic. Even before she spoke, Amélie knew that the woman was pleading with her.

“Please, luv, I… I need something to help ground me right now,” Lena explained, voice almost as quiet as the breath of death. Desire, of the desperate sort, was clear in her tone. ‘Twas not a sexual one, but an equally intimate emotional one. Recent events had shaken her, leaving her in need of a counterbalance, and she wished Amélie to be the one to aid her. If they hadn’t both been in need of comforting, there would have been no trouble, no hesitation when it came to aiding each other. As it was, however, there was a noticeable disconnect between what they each needed. For Lena, the best course of action was a period of reflection, some time to catch her breath, regain her sense of self, then slowly approach the problem in front of her. On the other hand, Amélie felt her anxiety build up pressure, demanding that she try to deal with the issues facing her as soon as possible. Considering how many different questions they had to answer, it was understandable that she wanted to start working on them at that very moment.

Her desire to console Lena was, however, an incredibly powerful force. Despite the discomfort clawing inside her chest, she could not bring herself to break the feeling of serenity. And so she kept her fingers intertwined with the Brit’s. On top of that she gave a reassuring squeeze, trying to scrounge up a small smile, hoping it would ease the tension. To some degree it did, though not nearly as much as she had longed for. Still, she considered it better than nothing, and the look of relief on her friend’s face was practically enough to make it worth it.  _ For you, Chérie, _ she thought, _ I will be an anchor, and none of the world’s tides will move me. _

They sat together for some time, resting quietly, Lena nearly falling back asleep on multiple occasions. As the minutes passed, the sun finished rising, its rays caressing each of them in turn before slipping away, illuminating the entire space with ease. With the room far brighter than it had been when she had first arrived, Amélie was able to take note of more of the finer details. There was a sharp contrast between the med bay and the rest of the otherwise abandoned facility. While everywhere else seemed to be a mess of cobwebs and broken glass, the miniature hospital was in near perfect shape, small gatherings of dust here and there being the only offenses. Evidently someone had been taking care of it over the years, despite the fall of Overwatch. That gave Amélie a bit of extra hope- Lena was in good hands, in a place that welcomed her, with individuals who wanted nothing more than her safety.

 

Somehow, someway, they’d make it out of the mess they were in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will have some more actual plot development, primarily details of that whole 'dimension hopping' thing.


	7. Ens Causa Su

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The good doctor awakens, the first of many hard questions are asked, and the answers burn more than they should.

Try as she might, Doctor Angela Ziegler was unable to get a good night’s rest. A flurry of questions was assaulting her mind, each one having no available answer, only countless possibilities- each of which she felt the need to ponder. Even the feeling of her lover’s arms wrapped around her didn’t seem to help ease her soul. As with so many nights before, she only slept for a few measly hours, all of which were low in quality. When she awoke around half-past seven, she ultimately gave up on resting anymore. Part of her had wanted to get up earlier, anyway, despite the fact that Winston wouldn’t be arriving until near ten. Being a medic generally meant long hours, early mornings, and more headaches than she felt like counting. It was definitely something she was used to, although not something she was fond of. For once, rising with the sun would do nothing for her, besides reduce her already slim chances of sleeping well. And so she had tried her best to stay in bed for longer than usual.

As already noted, however, she hardly had any success. Thoughts were fearsome foes, and ones she could not easily protect against. Still, she would not let them interfere with her job, especially considering the fact that asking questions was so vital in her field of work. In order for her to help Lena, they’d need to discuss as many of the details surrounding the situation as they possibly could.  _ Maybe I could get a head start,  _ she wondered, slowly rising out of bed, _ I might be able to get a few things ready for Winston. _ With that she bent over to give Fareeha a gentle kiss before moving to leave, ignoring the other woman’s quiet groans of protest. If things went as they usually did, they’d both be wide awake soon enough. Until then, Angela was certain she needed a cup of coffee, and that Lena would probably appreciate one as well.

To that end she quietly made her way to the facility’s old kitchen, glad that some of those that used to live at the base kept at least part of it in good condition. Most of the Overwatch outposts had been fully decommissioned, sometimes even demolished, and occasionally just left to rot. So many considered them to be entirely a thing of the past, but the remnants of the London center proved otherwise. Admittedly a good portion of it was in shambles, with scattered glass and leftover blood stains, but it fared better than most had expected it to. Especially the living quarters and medical bay, where leftover Agents occasionally continued their work in secret. Angela herself had only been there a few times since the fall. Only a few ex-agents remained in the area, and the facility’s technology felt a little outdated at times. While it was certainly enough for her to work with, well…. The difference was enough to make her work elsewhere whenever she had the chance.

Now that Lena had returned, somehow, there was a possibility of that changing. Her presence would certainly stir things up around London, clearly some of those things being dangerous, and there would likely be  _ some _ need of a base of operations. Of course, one lonely agent wouldn’t need an entire outpost. With her back, though… One could say that Angela had high hopes for what Winston and her had discussed a few weeks prior. Perhaps she was getting ahead of herself. Even if her initial examinations had found no physical problems with Lena, there was still a chance of unknown issues, or the development of complications. This idea made itself clear to Angela, who silently reminded herself of her duties.

Wordlessly she continued down the hallway, occasionally having to step around debris, the building’s layout firmly engraved in her mind. A majority of the newer Overwatch bases were uniform, meaning that to know one was to know all. And with how many times Angela had been forced to run from her room to the medbay… well, it was safe to say that she wasn’t going to lose her way. The kitchen was smack dab in the middle of the base, meaning she could easily stop for some caffeine, as well as a small snack to nibble on her way to the laboratory. Trying to work while physically exhausted was already a bad idea, but adding a lack of nutrition would make it an even worse one. On top of that, she had no idea whether or not Lena would want food, and the doctor prefered to be safe than sorry. At the very least she’d get some water, to help ensure her patient stayed hydrated.  _ Even if she was  _ **_somewhere_ ** _ all these years, I’d imagine Lena will still be thirsty, _ Angela thought as she entered the cafeteria.

It only took a few minutes to grab what she needed. She spent that time thinking once more of different explanations for Lena’s reappearance, trying to recall theories regarding the original Slipstream incident. Of course, one of the more accepted ideas had been that in the process of teleportation something had ‘snapped’, so to speak, resulting in the destruction of everything the vessel was, including the woman inside of it. Whatever  _ might _ have remained was assumed to have somewhat successfully relocated-... though they had no idea  _ where _ it would have ended up.

Evidently, that theory could now be put aside. Lena had  _ survived _ . If she had, then perhaps the rest of Slipstream had as well, or at least part of it. Besides from the clear glory that was Lena’s return, the event presented a huge possibility for the furtherment of science. It wasn’t what Angela chose to focus on, of course, but the fact was stuck in the back of her mind. With the advancement of transportation related technology would come an easier way to get help to those who needed it. For someone like her, who had dedicated her life to delivering salvation to those in dire situations, the concept was practically intoxicating. A thousand doors might have opened with Lena’s reappearance. In the moment, however, none were quite as important as that which led to the medbay.

“-are hard right now,  _ Chérie _ , but I am certain that we will be able to pull through, as long as we stand strong,” said a voice from within the room, giving Angela a moment’s pause. The voice was definitely Amélie’s, and the one she spoke to could be none other than Lena. From what the doctor could tell, the duo were having a rather emotional conversation. Intruding felt wrong, but there was still plenty she could do before Winston’s arrival, most of which required her speaking to her patient. On top of that, she had already gotten the woman some tea. If she waited too long, it would get cold, and who liked cold tea? Admittedly it was a poor reason, but it was enough to shift the balance in the favor of action. With a deep breath Angela opened the door.

Almost immediately the conversation inside halted, and two heads whirled around to look up at her. In another life she might have frozen up, perhaps with a nervous blush, but in this one she simply smiled at the duo and moved closer.

“Oi, good mornin’, Doc,” chimed the Brit, apparently recovering from her surprise fairly quickly. There was a small grin on her face, one that didn’t seem forced.  _ Good, _ Angela thought, _ I wouldn’t want her faking being okay for my sake. _ There was still room for that, of course. The fact that Lena’s smile seemed honest now, however, was a good sign for what was to come. Glad to have started on a positive note, Angela continued forward, quietly placing the drink tray on the night stand. With that she glanced towards the duo before speaking up.

“Good morning to you too, Lena. I’m glad to see you’re already up and moving- you had us quite worried last night,” the Doctor said, smile turning sad. Although the Brit had proved to be uninjured, the uncertainty surrounding the device on her chest had been rather troubling. Furthermore, her very presence in the world was enough to cause confusion, and the resulting mess of theories only added to the stress. Reaching Winston had proved oddly troublesome, considering they had seen him the previous morning. Like a few of the others, however, he had already started to head home from the gathering by the time Lena reappeared. There was something fascinating about the timing of her return, really. The odds of her showing up after being gone for so long had already been so slim. The possibility of her materializing out of nowhere, on the anniversary of her disappearance, right at the location of her memorial…

Well, the odds had been against her, to under exaggerate to a rather severe degree.

“I had myself pretty worried, too, Doc. It… heh, it was a hell of a night, for sure,” Lena admitted. For a moment she looked away, seemingly finding comfort in a reassuring gaze from Amélie. When she turned back towards Angela she glanced at the tray of food. Instantly her eyes widened a bit, as if suddenly realizing just how hungry she was, and she glanced at the doctor with a hopeful expression. “Is this for me?” She asked. When Angela nodded, Lena practically leaped forward, grabbing a biscuit and starting to scarf it down. It was somewhat surprising, considering how lethargic she had seemed a moment prior.  _ Then again, _ the doctor thought, _ she always was full of energy… _ With another smile she took a sip of her own coffee, hoping the caffeine would allow her to keep up with her patient.

It dawned on her, after a moment, that she hadn’t anticipated Amélie’s presence, and didn’t have anything for the woman. There was a few seconds of silence, which she used to wonder whether or not to offer some of her own drink. After a pause, however, Amélie slowly rose to her feet, evidently having something in mind already. Both of the other women glanced up with some semblance of confusion.

“Perhaps I should take my leave, so you two can discuss what has happened,” Amélie explained, taking a quick glance at the door. Almost immediately Lena began to protest, but the French woman put up a hand to silence her. “I am afraid I would be no help with matters of science or medicine. Moreso, I should prepare a breakfast of my own.” It made sense, really, and Angela made no move to stop her. Although her presence seemed to help ease Lena’s discomfort, her own health was still important.  _ Not to mention the trickier parts of patient confidentiality, _ Angela thought, sipping at her coffee once more. The room fell silent as Amélie left, a blanket of discomfort slowly falling upon the remaining duo. At first the good Doctor was willing to let the quiet stay. Lena needed to finish eating, as well as sip at her tea, and trying to talk to her when she had her mouth full had proved to be futile (as well as a tad awkward) in the past. But when the Brit’s hand visibly shook as she reached for her tea, Angela knew she had to say something.

“Amélie said that you specifically asked for Winston and myself, correct?” She asked, hoping to start things out casually. When she received a nod in response she quietly continued. “I must admit I’m surprised you mentioned me. Flattered, yes, but… surprised. Especially since I wasn’t in London during the incident,” she added, pausing when she saw confusion creep onto Lena’s face. The other woman stopped chewing mid-bite, swallowed hard, and then tilted her head to the right. Her gaze shifted away, then flickered around as if she was trying hard to remember something. Both concerned and intrigued, Angela shifted before speaking again, hoping that what came next would help her understand the situation. “Was… was there a particular reason you requested I help? Or did you simply want someone familiar to treat your injuries?”

Instead of replying immediately, Lena took a shaky sip from her tea, followed by a deep breath. Her eyes were locked on a distant space, unable to look up at the doctor.

“Well…” she started after a moment, seeming unsure of herself, “I… I figured you’d know what to do. You were the one who took care of me while Winston built the accelerator, after all.” The way she spoke was so easy, the words just slipping right off her tongue. It was clear she meant what she said… and that’s what doubled Angela’s confusion.  _ Accelerator?  _ She thought, unintentionally furrowing her brows.  _ Is that the device on her chest?... That would make sense, but I’ve never heard Winston mention it. _ Uncertainty must have been prominent in her expression, as Lena let out a disappointed sigh, a harsh frown marring her face. “You… don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?...”

There was a twinge in her voice, a slight waver, that managed to break Angela’s heart. Every part of her wished that she understood what the Brit meant, both because the knowledge would be helpful and because she hated the hurt on the woman’s face. But the world did not bend to her desires, nor Lena’s, leaving the duo to deal with the situation at hand. Evidently there was a disconnect between their memories. What wasn’t evident, of course, was what was causing that separation. Something told Angela that she wouldn’t be able to solve the mystery without Winston’s help. Still, she could start the investigation, hopefully gathering information that the scientist would find helpful. At the very least she could ease some of her own curiosity.

“Perhaps my early morning memory isn’t what it should be,” the doctor continued, making sure Lena was watching her before finishing her thought. “When did Winston make the accelerator?” To be honest, Angela wasn’t sure how important the device was going to end up being. At that point, however, she had no idea how vital  _ any _ detail was going to be. Every avenue had to be explored until one proved fruitful. If she was lucky, she’d find the right trail by the end of the day. If she was particularly unlucky, though, it could end up being years before anyone had the slightest idea of what had happened to Lena.  _ Hopefully it won’t come to that, _ she thought, shifting as the Brit started to speak.

“After Slipstream… Don’t you remember, Doc?... He put it together so I’d stop flickering in and out of time, so I could stay grounded again. A-and you talked me through the tough days, before it was done, when I was a crying mess unsure how long I’d be around, and how long I’d be gone for, and, and I… I thought it was all over, but you ‘n Winston made sure I stuck around,” Lena rambled, voice cracking again, desperation taking over her tone. Somehow what she said this time around made even less sense than what she had a few moments earlier. According to Angela’s perception of reality, nothing that the Brit said was true. None of that happened, at least not in the doctor’s existence, and it didn’t occur to her that it might have been real in a different existence. After all, the concept of multiple dimensions, timelines, or what-have-you was one she had rarely, if ever, pondered. More than that, it wasn’t something her mind would jump to when trying to figure out how something was possible.

In that moment, Lena’s words felt more like a recollection of a dream than an actual clue to her situation. Doubt crawled into Angela’s mind, making her wonder if her friend had suffered delusions due to trauma, and a pang of guilt tugged at her heartstrings. She didn’t want to question her friend’s reliability, but things weren’t adding up from her perspective.

“I must apologize, Lena, but… I…” Angela started to say, tripping over her own tongue. There was no easy way to say what she was thinking, especially considering she was speaking to someone she cared deeply about.  _ How do I tell her that her memories are faulty?  _ She wondered, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. “What you’re talking about never happened. This is the first we’ve seen you since  _ Sliptream _ ’s launch failed and you disappeared. I don’t know how, I mean… I can’t explain what-” She continued, watching the other woman start to shake more and more. Tears started to form in her eyes. Seeing Lena like this was  _ heartbreaking _ . As Angela struggled to find the right words, her patient’s stress kept building up, finally hitting a breaking point.

“STOP!” Lena yelled, hands clutching her head. It caught the doctor by surprise, making her freeze up, eyes wide, gaze locked on her patient. Outbursts like this were uncommon for the Brit- at least prior to the incident. How much had changed since then wasn’t clear, and Angela found herself with more doubt than before, utterly unsure of how to proceed. Knowing she had to do  _ something _ , she tried to speak up. Almost instantly, however, she was interrupted by a sobbing Lena. “ _ Please _ , Doc,  _ you can’t tell me it wasn’t real… _ ” Every word had a splinter, a point where it broke, the woman’s voice shattering repeatedly. If Angela hadn’t been sure what to do before, she was clueless now. Even a base reaction to what was happening was too much to ask of her. As if realizing that the doctor could offer none of the help she needed, at least not in that moment, Lena shakily pushed herself to her feet. “I need a minute.”

Concerned about what her patient might do, Angela tried to protest. Before she could stop the other woman there was a flash of blue light, unexpected enough to temporarily blind her, as well as the sound of the med bay’s door opening. Shocked, the doctor stayed still for a few moments. Once again Lena had seemingly vanished. The fact that the door had opened, coupled with the faint sound of rapid footsteps, made it seem like she wouldn’t be gone for as long this time. Regardless, Angela couldn’t sit still forever. With a gulp she stood up, wiping tears from her cheeks, and quickly shuffled into the hallway. Lena wasn’t immediately visible, but the pattern of disturbed litter gave hints about her location. Hoping her instincts were right, Angela started to follow the ‘trail’, practically running down the corridor. Panic made her careless, and there was no preventing a collision when she rounded a corner and found a confused Amélie in her face...


	8. Ignis Aurum Probat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Racing steps, racing hearts, racing minds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between a bout of depression, trying to catch up with school, and working through some 'lifestyle' changes, this story got lost, along with most of my other writing projects. Now that it's summer, and some long talks with my therapist helped change my perspective on a few things, I have time to write again. So, well, sorry it took so long, but thanks for sticking with me through this. I promise that I will finish this, though I still can't say when.

There was an unexplainable  _ rush _ with blinking away from one’s problems. No matter the severity of the issue, or the urgency of which it presented itself, rushing past it all felt utterly amazing. Relief came with it, with the knowledge that few things were actually inescapable. Of course, all problems would eventually have to be dealt with, but for Lena Oxton, they could almost always be dealt with in her own time. In that moment, it meant fleeing from the consequences of her latest recall. She dashed down the base’s halls, not bothering to think about the possibility of her chronal accelerator malfunctioning again, occasionally surging forward with a flash of blue. Although she had no clear destination in mind, there was really only one place she could end up: The facility’s roof.

In years past, it had always been her safe haven, the place she went when nowhere else could offer her refuge. Time after time she had sat upon the buildings edge, letting her feet dangle without care. Something about being up in the air simply never failed to grant her a sense of freedom. Flying was better than standing upon a high point, of course, but there were too many ‘risks’ with letting her pilot a plane. All because of the damn thing strapped to her chest, the source of her latest ailments.  _ Or maybe not… _ Lena thought as she pushed past one last door, daylight welcoming her. Slowing down, she took a moment to collect her thoughts, trying to piece together everything she knew.

Immediately it was clear that Angela was wrong. What she said had shaken Lena, even made her doubt herself, but the last minute alone proved that the doctor was mistaken. There was no way that Lena could have imagined the device she wore, nor could she have been able to get to the roof so quickly without it. And while she had no evidence linking Angela to her own recovery… she knew that Winston’s signature was built into the accelerator.  _ Along with a copy of the schematics, _ Lena remembered,  _ as long as I didn’t lose ‘em, that is. _ Practically giddy with excitement, despite having been so panicked mere moments earlier, the Brit started fiddling with the side of her device. A compartment was located near the back, almost too small to be noticed. Lena’s face lit up the second her fingers brushed against the familiar latch.

Quickly she tugged off a glove, reached back, and undid the cover, nearly dropping it as she did. As soon as the small flash drive fell into her hand, she felt a massive wave of relief hit her. The data inside could show that she hadn’t been lying, that the device was made by Winston, that she  _ had _ been drifting through the space between times after  _ Slipstream _ . It was enough to make her start crying again. Maybe there was more to the situation than she realized, but in that moment she took what happiness she could get. It was in her nature, really, to try and slip away from her problems; to bury herself within whatever joys she could. After all… when you were a woman out of time, whose very presence in the world was as flimsy as a house of cards, you never really knew if you’d get the chance to relax again.

More than that, you ended up facing more sorrow than most. If you weren’t careful, it could take over your life, making everything you had worked on seem to crumble.

“ _ It’s gonna be just fine, _ ” Lena mumbled, clutching the flash drive in one hand, the other quickly wiping away her tears. Her heart was still pounding, acting like she was still racing down hallways. “I just gotta show Winston and Angela this, and we’ll be good,” she murmured to herself, trying to slow her breathing down at the same time. Bringing herself back down to Earth, as much as she loved having her head in the clouds, turned into a priority. If she was going to figure out what was going on, she’d have to keep some level of a cool head… which meant keeping her outbursts to a minimum.  _ This’ll be fun, _ Lena thought with a heavy sigh. After taking another deep breath she turned back towards the stairwell. To her partial surprise, she was greeted by the sound of rushed footsteps approaching…

* * *

They had fallen to the floor in a messy heap of tangled limbs, their collision jarring, stunning both of them for several moments. As soon as she had processed the impact, Angela was a nervous wreck of apologies. She was still rather flustered from Lena’s sudden departure, her thoughts scattered to the winds, and the concern on her companion’s face only heightened her stresses. Cheeks stained bright red, the doctor tried to rise back up, but found her feet oddly unsteady. It wasn’t until Amélie lent a hand that she was able to stand once more. Together they took a second to catch their breaths, both a little overwhelmed. But, of course, Angela didn’t stay still for long. Panic still filled her chest, and she knew it wouldn’t go away until she knew her patient was safe.

“I’m sorry, I- I, I need to find Lena,” she stuttered, glancing around the hallway for any sign of her target. There were a few small skid marks, as well as spots where dust had been kicked up, missing patches revealing a hasty path.  _ There we go, _ Angela thought, already moving away. But a hand found its way onto her shoulder, causing her to freeze up. Confused, she looked over her shoulder to find a worried Amélie, something she really should have expected. Realizing the reason for the pause, she tried to answer the French woman’s silent question. “There were some… tough things to explain to her. I’m afraid she didn’t take the news well. Before I knew it she was up and out of the room, in the blink of an eye,” Angela said, fumbling over her words.

“Then we need to find her,” Amélie replied, eyebrows furrowed. Almost immediately she was turning, moving in the direction that the doctor had tried to earlier. There was an unsurprising level of determination in her gait- one could almost believe that she knew  _ exactly _ where she was going. But seeing as she definitely did not, Angela, after a second of shock, moved to overtake her. A quick glance was exchanged as she did, briefly acknowledging her lead. Together they dashed through the halls, practically running, desperation threatening to overwhelm them.

The fact that Lena’s trail was getting increasingly easier to follow was their only source of relief. Albeit it did come with one downside, the kind that made Angela’s mouth go dry, her hands tremble, and her heart skip a few too many beats: As the duo followed the signs of panicked steps, the list of possible destinations got shorter and shorter until only one remained. Even though there was nothing inherently frightening about rooftops, Angela knew better than most what they were often used for… and how difficult trying to mend such injuries could be, if it proved possible at all. She could only hope that Lena had been searching for little more than a breath of fresh air. Well, she could also breakout into a full run, but the few extra seconds it might give her felt worthless by that point. If she had understood the danger half a minute earlier, then maybe the speed boost would have been useful. Still, she took the stairs two steps at a time, practically flinging the door open when she reached the top.

“Lena!” Angela called, voice cracking. Her momentum carried her forward another few feet, and she had to yank herself back when her gaze landed on the one she sought. The sight gave her pause, making her eyes widen, chest still heaving from the exertion. Behind her she could hear Amélie breathing just as hard. Together they must have been quite the sight: Frazzled hair, wrinkled clothes, dirt still covering their legs from their earlier fall. Of course, in their mind it was  _ Lena _ who stood out like a shining beacon. Sunshine cast a glow over her brunette hair, as well as glinted off her crooked smile. Relief washed over Angela in ways she couldn’t even begin to describe. It made her stumble forward, arms reaching out, a few tears slipping past her eyelids as the Brit pulled her into an embrace. “ _ Mein Gott, _ Lena, we were so worried… why did you run off like that?”

“I’m sorry, Doc,” Lena started, giving the other woman a quick squeeze before pulling back, a sad smile gracing her pink lips. Her eyes turned to Amélie for a split second, a hand beginning to reach out as if to pull her close. But she seemed to change her mind at the last second, recalling the device clenched in her other fist, and so she turned back to Angela with a grin. “It’s gonna be okay now, though, ‘cuz I got something that’ll explain everything!” Understandably, the doctor looked both skeptical and concerned. She started to speak, only to freeze when she saw what Lena was now presenting to her: A flashdrive with Winston’s name engraved on the side, as well as the Overwatch logo. The meaning wasn’t clear, but for the first time since the whole mess started, Angela felt like she had enough pieces to start putting the puzzle together...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick shout-out to inky13 for adding a comment to every chapter of this story. Reading through them has really helped me regain my motivation for this story, and I can't help but smile when I see them.

**Author's Note:**

> French Translations:  
> Chérie=Dear/Sweetheart  
> Ne courrez pas=Do not run  
> Fermez vos yeux=Close your eyes  
> Vouz allez bien=You're okay?  
> Merde=Shit  
> Mon Dieu=My God


End file.
